


Nameless, Faceless

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [35]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Summary: The day after an exhausting case, the team's called in for another local case, but one agent is missing, the other gets injured and an age-old enemy comes back to rekindle old wounds.
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Kudos: 17





	Nameless, Faceless

4 am. That’s when the jet hit the tarmac. Piper had been staring out the window, watching the sunrise as she pulled her cardigan close. She gently woke up Spencer and the team silently filed out of the plane and into their respective SUVs.

5 am. That’s when Piper’s head hit the pillow. But that wasn’t the same thing as falling asleep. After about a half-hour of staring at her ceiling, she’d had enough. She padded out into her living room and pulled out her stack of paperwork she still had to file away, sighing as she wrote out her report from the call to the final arrest. She’d written about half of her outline when her cell buzzed. _Not again._ “Yeah, Spence.”

 _“You picked up on the second ring.”_ Spencer’s drowsy voice melted Piper.

“Astute observation, Sherlock. Can’t sleep?”

 _“Not you too?”_ Piper smiled.

“Gave up after the first half-hour. Working on my report now.”

_“But you’re not allowed to take evidence home. Regulation.”_

“Yes, but it’s perfectly fine if I write a sketch of my report before I paste in the gory details.”

_“Of course. I knew they gave you those PhDs for a reason.”_

“So, why’d you call?”

_“Can’t I just call?”_

“Spencer, we just spent the last 24 hours in Canada. Get some sleep.”

 _“I can’t.”_ Piper’s pen faltered.

“Spence, are you okay?”

 _“Yeah, I just—”_ She heard him sigh over the phone and could imagine him hunched over, rubbing his face. _“I just want some sleep.”_ Piper racked her brain to think of how she could get Spencer to fall asleep.

“Okay, let me think.” Piper got up, her report still lying on the table, and began pacing.

_“Pipes—”_

“Shh. Let me think.” Piper whirled around. “I’m a genius.” She walked towards her wall of books, one golden fingernail running along every impulse-buy until she found the right one.

_“May I speak now?”_

“How does Fahrenheit 451 sound?”

_“I— What?”_

“I’m gonna read to you. How does Fahrenheit 451 sound?”

 _“Sounds perfect.”_ Piper moved back to her armchair, tucking her legs inside as she began reading.

“It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history…”

6 am. That’s when Piper heard Spencer snoring slightly through her cell. She whispered her name to check, but he was asleep. Piper switched her cell off before sliding it across the coffee table. She pulled the green throw over her and tried to get some sleep.

9 am. That’s when Piper’s head hit her carpeted floor at the sound of her cell ringing. “JJ, what the hell?”

“ _I know, I’m sorry. But there’s a case here. It’s local too. We might even be able to wrap it up quickly.”_ Piper sat up, rubbing her head.

“Alright. Send me the address. I’ll be there in 20.” Piper chucked the cell onto her sofa and peeled off her clothes before she entered the shower. She changed as fast as possible, grabbing a white collared top and grey sweater, dark jeans matched with a simple belt and leather jacket. She packed up the file, grabbed her sunglasses, keys, cell, helmet, wallet and badge before leaving. She was one of the first on the scene, with Spencer already perched on a table as though he wasn’t tall enough already, reading a note and JJ talking with the lead detective. JJ introduced her as well as Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss who had filed in behind them. She listened intently to the detective and observed the remnants of a violent murder. “His name is Nelson Martinez. From what we can figure, he answered his door, was forced into the apartment at gunpoint and then shot in the chest. It was all pretty sloppy.”

“2 days ago, a local doctor named Tom Barton found a note addressed to him at the hospital. It said the person was planning to kill his son. If Dr Barton tried to keep his boy hidden, one person would die every day in his place.”

“And you think this is connected?” Derek asked Detective Walker.

“The note is signed L.C. Yesterday we had another victim. Multiple gunshots outside the apartment. The shooter wrote L.C. in white chalk next to the body. Now, unless Dr Barton puts his son in harm’s way, we’re gonna keep having a victim a day.”

“Where’s Barton now?” Rossi asked.

“He’s at home. He doesn’t know about this victim yet,” the detective explained, and the team filed out of the small apartment.

“Hey, JJ, where’s Hotch?” Emily asked JJ as she watched Piper cross the street to her bike.

“He’s not answering his cell. I assume it’s on vibrate. He’ll get the message when he wakes up.”

“Try him again,” Rossi said. “He can meet us at Barton’s house.” Piper and Emily drove ahead to Kensington Rd where Dr Barton lived. The ladies entered the polished hall with rich timber floors.

“Dr Barton, where is your son right now?”

“Um, I asked him to stay up in his room.” The doctor cleared his throat. “I told him that there was a threat against me at the hospital. I told him the police didn’t take it seriously but that they wanted me to stay here for a few days and that I wanted to have him with me.”

“And Jeffrey’s mother?” Piper asked gently.

“She died when he was 10. Breast cancer. Would someone really hurt Jeffrey?”

“2 people are dead already,” Emily said. “Whoever sent that note is obviously serious.”

“And if I don’t let Jeffrey out of the house, then another person’s gonna die?”

“Right now, we have to assume that he will keep killing.” Piper watched the man rub his face, helpless.

“My son is 15 years old. I cannot put him in danger.”

“We are not asking you to. And even if you were willing, we couldn’t send him to school knowing he would endanger every student in the building. What we need to do now Is go over everything we know, piece together how this person fits into your life.”

“Well, I…I… I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill Jeffrey.”

“Sir, not to be blunt, but this isn’t about Jeffrey.” Piper’s voice was calm as she explained the situation to the father. “This is about you. He wants you to remember who he is, and until that happens, he hasn’t accomplished what he set out to do.”

“I know you’ve been asked this before, but, please, think again…” Emily urged him. “Do you know anyone with the initials L.C.?” Dr Barton sighed.

“I’ve looked everywhere… Day planner, emails, patient lists. There’s no one.”

“Have you noticed anyone who might have been watching you, either at the hospital or here in the neighbourhood?” He shook his head.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Let’s keep going,” Piper urged. “Both the victims he’s killed have been Hispanic men in their 40s. Have you had a patient recently that fits the description?”

“I’m a trauma surgeon in DC. I have endless patients, all demographics.”

“Okay then. We’re gonna need records of all your recent surgeries. I’ll call Garcia,” Emily said, leaving the room.

“I… I don’t understand. If he’s mad at me, why not just kill me?”

“You want my opinion?” He nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. “I think it’s because something happened to his own son that he blames you for. Maybe it was an unsuccessful surgery or a choice you had to make between surgeries. Regardless, he blames you for it. Even if you may have had nothing to do with it.” The doctor nodded slowly. Before he could continue, his cell buzzed. Piper wrung her hands as he answered the call while the rest of her team filed in. “Jeffrey? What…what’s happening? Are you ok? Jeffrey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” Piper motioned for Derek to go upstairs while Dr Barton talked to his son and Derek sprinted up the steps and into his room.

“He’s not up here,” he announced.

“Jeffrey, where are you?” The line clicked. “He said he’s going to school.” The doctor rubbed his face. “What do we do?” Piper turned to Rossi who seemed to realise he was the de facto leader in Hotch’s absence.

“Bishop, Prentiss and Reid, stay here and work a profile. The rest of us will go to school, protect Jeffrey there.” Piper nodded and she and Spencer moved into the living room to set up a workspace. “The safest place for him to be is at that school. We can control access in and out. Detective Walker will organize an evacuation as soon as the school day is done. But if we incite a panic now and the unsub is outside, a lot of kids are gonna die,” Rossi warned Derek and JJ as they left the household.

Meanwhile, Penelope had called Spencer to send him the medical information. _“Spencer, this guy’s a trauma surgeon working in a major metropolitan area. We are talking thousands of surgeries.”_

“Confine it to the last 6 months.”

_“That’s still hundreds.”_

“I know.”

_“Okay, do you want biological information or full medical charts?”_

“Can you _get_ the full medical charts?”

_“You know, for a smart boy, you still ask a lot of dumb questions. You’ll have them in seconds.”_

“Hey, Garcia.”

_“Yes, my love.”_

“Has Hotch checked in with you?”

_“He’s not with you?”_

“He’s probably on his way. Uh, thanks for everything. Bye.” He switched the cell off and slipped it into his pocket as Piper handed him a cup of coffee. “She’s going to email the files. We’ll print them out from here.” Piper nodded.

“Can I see that note?” She murmured a quick thanks as she re-read it.

“You know, I could have my office send over the files,” Dr Barton offered.

“No, no, trust us, this is faster,” Emily reassured him.

“We need to dig through your life and try to figure out why this is happening,” Spencer explained. “Let’s start with the most recent cases first. Something set this guy off, and odds are it’s in your files.”

“We can use the note to cross off people from the list,” Piper murmured.

“How?”

“Well, for starters, we know he’s a male,” Emily told the doctor. “Women tend to add adjectives and very specific details to their notes. This has none of those. Just look at the first sentence… ‘I plan to kill your son.’ And their notes tend to be more about themselves than the person they’re writing to. ‘I watched you every day.’ ‘I will watch you lose everything.’”

“We know he surveilled you and your son,” Spencer surmised. “Which means he either has enough money to be away from a regular job or he’s currently unemployed.”

“He’s most likely a father.” Piper looked up from the note. “He’s clearly grieving. He’s taken great measures to make sure you feel his pain.”

“Let’s start with cases involving teenagers killed,” Spencer suggested. “But also, anyone with a strong family presence. Just because your son is 15, that doesn’t necessarily mean that his child is the same age.” The four of them divided the piles, but the medical jargon was going over her head. Piper tried to focus, ignoring the big medical terms, focusing on the emotional toll. They worked like this for about a solid hour until Dr Barton slammed his file on the desk.

“We only have 5 hours until school ends. There’s no way we can get through all these patients in that time.”

“Well, we’ve narrowed it down already,” Spencer supplied, attempting to be optimistic.

“And we still have 100 left. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be callous, but when you work in the ER, you don’t remember names. You operate and you move on.”

“He’s right. There are too many files here for us to profile in such a short period of time,” Piper added from her seat on the rug.

“Um, I can get to Hotch’s and get back here in half an hour,” Emily suggested, getting up and grabbing her blazer.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s our supervisor,” Piper explained. “We weren’t supposed to work today so we’re having trouble getting ahold of him.”

“But we need more eyes,” Emily said. “I’ll be back soon. Oh, Pipes can I—”

“Absolutely not.” Piper returned to her files.

“Oh, come on, I’ll take good care of it.”

“Oh right, because you take _such_ good care of _your_ car.” Dr Barton looked between the crushed agent and focused doctor, then turned to Dr Reid, who just shrugged.

“Well, I tried.” Emily asked Spencer to toss her the car keys, stressing for him to aim before he chucked them. To Emily’s credit, she was still able to catch it and she left for Hotch’s apartment. No less than 20 minutes after she had left, Spencer’s cell buzzed.

“Hold on, Emily. Slow down. What’s happened?” Dr Barton looked at Spencer, then at a confused Piper.

“Is this about Jeffrey?”

“Huh, no. It’s unrelated. Piper, can you hold the fort for me?”

“You got it. Go.”

“What is going on here?” Piper attempted to calm him down, but he was now on a rampage. “I’m trying to keep it together for my son and here you’re all slipping out one by one,” he said as his voice rose steadily.

“Sir, please—”

“What are you going to do about my son?” He all but yelled at the other doctor. Piper froze.

“What did you say?” Piper raised a finger at him. “Repeat it.”

“I said, what are you going to do about my son?” Piper blinked at him, then pulled her hair into a quick ponytail before searching through the piles.

“How many of your surgeries involved patients under 20?”

“Uh…6. What are you looking for?”

“We’ve been looking at this from the angle of perception that the unsub is angry at something you did, but it’s not that at all. It’s what you didn’t do.” Dr Barton glanced back at the clock. “We still have time. Think about any cases that had multiple victims, but you could only perform on one. Maybe one was DOA or—”

“Yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose while shaking his other hand. “It was right after New Years. There was a car accident. One of the victims was Hispanic.” Piper rummaged through the pile as Spencer walked in, handing him file after file as she perused the dates.

“Piper—”

“Shh, we’re almost there. Ha! Here, January 3rd, there was a 2-car collision, you operated on a Hector Ledezma.”

“I remember. The collision lacerated his kidney. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to repair the damage. Uh… there was another man there, family member. Meyers, Jason Meyers, that was the kid’s name. 18. He was in the accident, DOA.” Piper thanked him before leaving the room to call Garcia.

“Piper, listen,” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“About Hotch, he’s been—” Piper raised a finger as Garcia picked up.

“Garcia, I need you to find a patient in the system named Jason Meyers. He was admitted January 3rd, on life support.”

_“Oh, no.”_

“What?”

_“He was taken off the ventilator and declared legally dead 3 days ago.”_

“Who’s his father?”

_“Yeah, uh, Patrick Meyers, 45.”_

“Get a photo to Rossi immediately. I think he’s our unsub.”

 _“Ok. Yeah. It’s on its way.”_ Piper cut the call, slipping it into her pocket as she looked at the floor, eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s wrong? You look tense,” Spencer lifted her chin and she looked up into his golden eyes.

“The note. It was signed, L.C. But they aren’t initials.” He dropped his hand and she started to pace.

“What is it?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know," she shrugged. "Does L.C. mean anything beyond a name?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is it some kind of— what is it?” She followed his gaze to Dr Barton grabbing his blazer. “Sir, Agent Rossi’s ordered us to not let you leave.”

“The unsub said I shouldn’t deviate from my normal routine. I always go to pick up Jeffrey at this time.”

“Okay, we’ll come with—” She sighed as Dr Barton walked away to get to the front door. Spencer was still lost in thought, thinking of every abbreviation possible for L.C. _Unless…_

“Dr Barton! Don’t!” Spencer sprinted past Piper as he unholstered his gun. Piper unholstered her own gun as she ran after him, feeling her stomach drop at the sound of a single gunshot, Spencer dropping to the ground. She raised her own automatically, lodging her own bullet in Mr Meyer’s thigh. She jogged over to the fallen body, sending his gun skirting down the grass to the footpath below. “I’m fine. Go to him. Go to him.” Piper’s head twisted back to see Spencer still on the ground and she skidded over to him.

“What do I do?”

“Hold the… hold the bleeding.” Spencer paled, beads of sweat trickling down as Piper’s usually soft hands pressed hard to stop the bleeding.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Spencer scoffed, but humour leeched from his face as he watched Piper panicking.

“Hey, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” she scoffed. “Your thigh is bleeding, and you’re fine. If you’re fine, then I’m… Michelle Obama.”

“Piper, relax. The others are here.” She barely heard her team approach, or the ambulances squealing behind her for that matter, focusing on the blood, letting go when Dr Barton intervened. JJ helped Piper up, but she was still shaking, her hands stained with his blood.

“Looks like it went clean through.” He looked back up at Piper. “Keep pressure on this, okay?”

“I’m good, I’m fine. Go to your son.” Piper knelt back down next to Spencer as Dr Barton ran to his son. “I’m good. I’m fine,” he repeated softly.

“Spencer, you say you’re fine one more time, I’m gonna give you more pain than some damn bullet.” Spencer chuckled before remembering what he had to tell her.

“Call…Call Emily. You need to find Emily.”

“Why, where is she?”

“Something’s happened to Hotch.” Rossi, JJ and Morgan went to call up Emily while Piper relinquished her position to the EMTs who moved Spencer onto a stretcher. Once in the ambulance, Spencer visibly relaxed but tightened his grip on Piper’s hand as an EMT grabbed a syringe.

“What’s that for?” Piper asked.

“Morphine. Helps with the pain.”

“He can’t take narcotics.” His grip relaxed in Piper’s hand. “You don’t have anaesthesia?” The EMT nodded before rummaging through a kit. Spencer winced as the EMTs cleaned the wound and stopped the bleeding. Piper held his hand till the ER came into view. She tried breathing in deeply before she caught sight of the blood on her hands, then stumbled to the bathroom. She felt numb as she scrubbed her hands free of all the blood and grime, breathing shakily. Her cell buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, almost having it slip out of her wet hands. _Emily._

_“Piper, how is he?”_

“Stable. He’s in surgery. They said he’ll be out in an hour. What’s happened to Hotch?”

_“Reid didn’t tell you?”_

“He tried. I was…” She took a deep breath. “I was too busy to listen and then Barton left and the next thing I know, he’s running and diving at Barton and now he’s…”

_“Stop blaming yourself. He’s gonna be fine. So’s Hotch. Look, I can’t explain over the phone. Are you at Saint Sebastian?”_

“Yeah, it was the closest, why?”

_“Hotch is here too.”_

“Wai— Why’s he in the hospital?” Piper’s voice broke.

_“I can’t. Not over the phone. Morgan, Rossi and JJ are here, I’ll come over there and explain it all.”_

Piper wrung her hands and paced, waiting for Spencer to come out of surgery and Emily to explain what happened to Hotch. Emily arrived first, her long hair adorning her weary face. “What happened?”

“Hotch was stabbed nine times.”

“Nine? Do we know who did it?” Emily nodded, motioning for her to take a seat.

“You ever hear the name George Foyet?”

“I think Spencer mentioned him when I got back from my sabbatical. Why?”

“Back when Hotch was starting out as a senior agent, he was one of his first cases. George Foyet is the name of the Boston Reaper.” Piper shook her head in disbelief.

“The guy that killed 20 people in the late 90s? Why’s he after Hotch?”

“Because he craves power. The lead detective from that case died a few months ago and Hotch is the last one left.” Emily rubbed her tired face and Piper squeezed her shoulder.

“We’ll get him,” Piper spoke softly. “You need to focus on Hotch.”

“But what about—”

“I’ve got Spencer. Don’t worry about him.” Emily wrapped her arms around Piper, whispering a thank you in her ear as Piper rubbed her back. “Go. Get Foyet.” Piper watched Emily nod stoically and leave before a nurse collected her to see Spencer. She walked in to see Spencer still pale, his hair strewn across the pillow. Murmuring thanks to the nurse, Piper moved over to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling up an armchair.

“How’s Hotch?”

“He’s stable. And strong as hell. He’ll survive.” Spencer nodded, sitting up in his bed. “What did it mean? L.C?”

“It’s an administrative term in hospitals when they’re afraid a patient’s gonna go on life support and they don’t have a DNR order.”

“Meaning?” Spencer winced as he tried to adjust his leg.

“It stands for 'living children'. The unsub was trying to tell Dr Barton that he was actually the target and that he’s gonna leave his son without a father.” Piper nodded slowly, leaning back in her chair. “So, uh, what’s my diagnosis Doc?” Piper let a giggle out in relief.

“You’ve got a case of I’m-such-an-idiot-I-run-into-danger-without-telling-my-partner-itis.”

“That sounds familiar,” Spencer said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember. Piper blushed slightly, recalling when she’d said it before. “Right. The anthrax case,” he chuckled. But Piper didn’t smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just uh, the doctor talked to me. She said you’re gonna heal but um… You’re gonna need crutches for 10 weeks.”

“Two and a half months?” Spencer slammed his head into his pillow.

“I think you’re missing out on the even brighter side of things,” Piper snorted derisively. “They aren’t gonna clear you for duty. Not for 2 more weeks.” He groaned as Piper chuckled. He got up, narrowing his eyes at her.

“This is funny?” Laughter erupted from her.

“Garcia’s right. For a smart boy, you ask a _lot_ of dumb questions.” Spencer pouted.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. See if I care.” Chuckling, Piper pulled his hand closer, pressing a small kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“It _means_ that if you have 2 weeks of bed rest, _I_ get to sit and play nurse with you.” Spencer jerked his eyes open, realisation dawning on him. “It also means dinner,” she sang and earned a grin from him.

“Well, I guess kicking down doors is more Derek’s thing anyway.”

* * *

Hotch lay in his bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, having sent the others to find and protect his family. Every time his eyes fluttered shut, he vividly remembered parts of what had happened. The plane had hit the tarmac and they’d all dispersed. He remembered the quiet as he unlocked his door, the only sound being a bone-weary sigh from his lips as he threw the briefcase on the couch and the keys into the dish along with his wallet and badge. He’d unholstered his gun and slid it on the coffee table before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He gazed out the window of his apartment, about to take a sip of his drink when a husky voice came from behind the shadows. “You should have made the deal.”

Hotch turned around, grim-faced and as neutral as ever, unflinching as the gunshot shot past his shoulder, echoing around the small room as it tore through the thin wall.

“Is this part of my profile?” The hooded man smiled behind his mask. “You can’t show me fear.”

“If you don’t see fear, it’s because I’m not afraid,” Hotch said, his polished voice unbetraying of emotion. “Are you here to kill me, or are you here to play games?”

“You tell me. Enlighten me about my behaviour.” Hotch remained silent and stoic as Foyet started to remove his mask. Just as Aaron glimpsed his face underneath, he slammed the glass of whisky into his face. Foyet staggered for only a moment before whipping Hotch across the face with his pistol. He watched Aaron fall to the floor and start reaching for his gun before he kicked into the side of his face. Aaron lay on his back, clutching his face before attempting to rise up until Foyet pistol-whipped him again and Aaron’s head collided with the hard floor. Foyet tossed the gun and pulled out an army knife. “Tell me, Aaron. Would I use this?” He straddled Aaron before plunging the knife deep into his chest and, just as Aaron relaxed, wrenched it back out. He caressed Aaron’s cheek with the knife, taunting him. He brought his lips inches away from Aaron’s ear. “Shh. Don’t speak. You lost a lot of blood. You’ll need your oxygen.” Foyet grinned a toothy smile. “Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t want to brag, but I’m somewhat of an expert,” Foyet shrugged as Hotch groaned quietly, feeling warm, thick liquid bleed through his shirt. “Would you like to see my scars?” His voice was little more than a whisper now. He stripped himself of his hoodie, then bulletproof vest and pulled his shirt over his head. Pale scars glistened in the lamplight. “You like ‘em? Huh? Yours are gonna look just the same.” Hotch groaned as his eyes flickered open again, seeing Emily stand at his bedside.

“Hey, boss.”

“You were at my place, right? Could you tell me how he got in?” Hotch’s voice was more a whisper, a plea to his friend.

“I’m not sure. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I don’t know. After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m gonna be ok.” He glanced back at the glass doorway, the ghost of his past flickering. “Haley,” he breathed. Emily patted his arm and squeezed Haley’s shoulder on her way out. He struggled to sit up straight as she sat on the bed next to him, a warm hand laying on his chest.

“Rest,” she breathed.

“Did they explain to you what’s happening?”

“They said the Marshal's Service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody.” Haley’s voice struggled to remain calm. She couldn’t be angry at the man she loved, broken in a hospital bed.

“Haley, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know where they’re gonna take us?"

"No, I don’t. And that’s the point. I can’t know where you’re going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you.”

“Jack has school,” she whispered, her voice turning hollow. “He has friends. I have a job now.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. We will catch him, and you’ll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

“Are you sure that we’re in danger?”

“Yes.”

“And what about you?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Are you gonna be safe?”

“He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can’t see him is better than killing me.”

“What am I supposed to say to Jack?” She felt tears tracing pain across her cheek.

“Tell him it’s a vacation and that it’s not gonna be for very long.”

“How am I supposed to keep him safe if there's no one I know to help me?”

“Haley, you’re strong. You lived with me in this job, and you’ve practically raised Jack all by yourself. You’re a great mother.” She nodded, wiping away the tears.

“Can you catch this man?”

“I will catch this man.” Haley nodded, recognising grit in her ex-husband’s face.

“Jack wants to come in.”

“I want to see him, too. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Look, I know you’re trying to protect him. But you both need this. Please.” Aaron nodded stiffly and Haley left to collect Jack. He smiled softly seeing his beautiful son holding his mother’s hand as they walked in. She lifted Jack up onto his daddy’s bed.

“Hey, buddy.” He saw Jack stare at the tubing in his chest. “Don’t worry. It’s ok. The doctors made sure that I’m completely fine. Did mommy tell you that you two are gonna take a trip?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I’m not gonna see you for a while.”

“Why?”

“Well, think about it like when daddy goes away for work. Only this time you and mommy get to go someplace. But what do I tell you every time I go away?”

“You love me.”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m very proud of you. Every single day. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You take care of mom, okay?”

“Okay.” Jack kissed his daddy on the cheek before being led away by his mom. Piper watched them leave before leaning against the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” Piper’s voice was soft, fragile, as though another tragedy would silence her forever.

“I’m gonna be okay.” Piper scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s what this job does, right?” Piper sat next to Hotch in an armchair. “Emily told me about Foyet. I’m sorry—”

“There’s no need to apologise. You were on a break, recovering.”

“From a gunshot wound. I’d have been fine. But I should have been there and I’m sorry, boss.” They sat in silence for a while before Piper continued. “I saw Haley and Jack go off with the Marshal Service.”

“She’s strong. She’ll be fine.” She sensed that Hotch was saying it more for his benefit than hers.

“You could go with them.” Hotch looked at her warm, brown eyes. “We can take care of Foyet ourselves.” Hotch shook his head.

“No. I know the Boston Reaper better than anyone else and if I go into hiding, he’ll try to coax me out with more murders. I can’t live with that.” Piper nodded slowly. “There’s uh… something delicate I need to discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a uh… form that’s going to be mailed to you. Usually, we don’t allow this kind of…relationship merely for practical purposes. But uh…” Piper looked confusedly at her boss.

“Hotch, I’m running on 3 hours of sleep. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that there’s a policy regarding intimate relationships within the FBI.”

“Sir, are you talking about Kevin and Penelope?” Piper leaned back in her chair. “She’s gonna be devastated.”

“No,” he managed to get out. “I’m talking about you and Reid.” Piper shot up straight.

“No— Nothing’s happened. Wh—”

“Don’t even bother lying. There’s just a small formality with workplace relationships, that’s all.” Piper blinked twice.

“Sir, not to be blunt, but you just got stabbed nine times. You’re worried about my relationship with Spencer?” Piper swore she saw a smile flash on Hotch’s face.

“Let’s just say, I understand the importance of having good people in your life.” His eyes flickered to Rossi standing in the doorway. “Speaking of good people.”

“Piper, get out for a sec, will you? Let me suck up to the boss.” Piper chuckled as she left the ward to join the others. Derek stared out the window at Haley and Jack getting into a car.

“Hey, how’s Spencer?” JJ asked.

“He’s gonna be fine. He’s gonna have to be on crutches for a while, but he said kicking down doors is Morgan’s job, anyway.” They all smiled but Derek’s face was still grim.

“You know, Foyet having your credentials had nothing to do with any of this," Emily consoled him. "It was just his way of trying to torture you.”

“Yeah, I know. Foyet’s about power and control. He was hoping to watch me fall apart, and… Now he wants to destroy Hotch.” He glanced down through the window at Hotch’s family getting into the dark sedan without him.

“Exactly,” Emily said firmly as they followed his gaze. “That’s his plan, and now we fight it.”


End file.
